


Julian Bashir, Gentleman Detective

by NoOneKnowsIWriteThis



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: 1920s, Detectives, Ficlet, Holodecks/Holosuites, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 04:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis/pseuds/NoOneKnowsIWriteThis
Summary: Julian has a whodunit holoprogram. Garak breaks in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started rewatching Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries and my fingers slipped. Whoops.

“And in this program you’re supposed to be some sort of rich dilettante?” Garak asked, pointedly looking around the lavish sitting room of the house that belonged to Julian’s character. Once again, Garak had broken into his holosuite program, and once again, against his better judgement, Julian was letting Garak tag along.

 

“Well that too,” Julian answered with a shrug as he watched Garak wander around, looking at the details of the environment. “I’m a private detective. Although, most of my character’s family died in a recent war, leaving their wealth to me. So my work is for the thrill of it rather than out of necessity.”

 

“Ah,” Garak replied, finally joining Julian by the window. “And that young lady you were with earlier, that was also for the thrill of it?”

 

Julian couldn’t help blushing. Garak had walked in on him in the middle of making out with said young lady.

 

“No, _ that _ was work,” Julian said jokingly. “One theory was that she was the jealous lover of the victim’s husband, but judging by how much she welcomed my advances, I have safely ruled that out.”

 

Garak raised an eye ridge. “And what do the police think of your...methods?”

 

Julian chuckled. “Well, they weren’t too keen on me at first, but I think the local detective inspector is susceptible to my charms.”

 

“Who wouldn’t be.” Garak’s response was muttered quietly, almost too quiet for Human hearing.

 

Julian blinked in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Garak, once again talking at a normal volume.

 

“So, doctor, why don’t you walk me through the case so far?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since this is meant to be a program based on Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, the program’s characters are also based on the characters from that, but aren’t identical. Basically the police detective in this program is deliberately a knock off version of Jack Robinson from that show.

On his second foray into Bashir’s private detective program, Garak met the police detective Bashir often worked with.

 

Bashir had casually strolled into the latest crime scene, a beautiful house owned by a friend of his aunt’s, with Garak following behind. They were immediately shown into the garden, where the victim’s corpse lay.

 

“Ah, Mr. Bashir, I wondered when you’d show.” They were approached by a man wearing a trenchcoat over a three piece suit. He was classically handsome, a bit older than Bashir, but there was a sadness in his eyes that aged him beyond his years. His expression was one of fond exasperation as he looked at Bashir, but it shifted to one of wariness, curiosity, and maybe a brief hint of jealousy as his gaze shifted to Garak. The man sighed. “Just because you’ve proven yourself both useful and impossible to get rid of, Mr. Bashir, that doesn’t mean everyone else can come tramping through the crime scene.”

 

Bashir grinned, amused by the comment. “James, this is Garak. Garak, this is Detective Inspector James Larkson. Garak is an old friend of mine. I trust him with my life and, more importantly, with  _ our _ evidence.”

 

The man, Larkson, raised an eyebrow and looked over Garak. “What kind of adventurer have you reunited with this time?”

 

Garak, tired of being spoken around, decided to take over his introduction. “No adventurer, inspector, merely a plain, simple tailor.”

 

Larkson gave Garak a long look, but let out a soft sigh and turned his attention to briefing Bashir on the mystery so far.

 

As Bashir wandered off to examine the area for more evidence, cutting a dashing figure in his cream suit with a contrasting emerald green shirt and gold tie underneath, Larkson hung back with Garak. “So how exactly did you two meet?” Larkson asked, clearly trying to size Garak up.

 

“Oh, this was years ago now,” Garak began vaguely, eager to establish a prior claim on Bashir’s friendship. “He was sitting alone at a cafe and I simply had to introduce myself to him. He was wearing the most dreadful uniform, but I could see the potential in him, waiting to be unlocked.”

 

“You met during the war?” Larkson didn’t seem entirely surprised at that possibility, so Garak replied with a somewhat agreeable hum. “I assume you’ve…” Larkson hesitated rethinking how to phrase his question. “...you’ve made clothing for him?”

 

Garak nodded, taking a moment to appreciate how Bashir’s suit caressed the younger man’s body as he leaned over to better examine a hedge. “The suit he’s currently wearing is just one humble example of my work,” Garak replied. “As is the shirt. A figure like his, it cries out to be wrapped in silks.” If the hologram detective was attempting to avoid blatant innuendo, well, Garak had no such compunctions. Besides, Garak  _ had  _ made the outfit after all, and the shirt  _ was  _ made from silk, even if it was replicated. “If it wasn’t for me, and his capable staff, of course, the poor young man would wear goodness knows what.”

 

At that moment, their conversation was interrupted by Bashir rushing back to them, a triumphant smile on his face as he held up a small bit of purple fabric with a white floral print.

 

“This was in one of the shrubs,” Bashir explained breathlessly. “What do you think, Garak?”

 

Garak gingerly took the scrap from Bashir’s hand, their fingertips brushing lightly. “Well, my dear, I’d say it’s a perfect match for the scarf the victim’s daughter was wearing when we came in.”

 

Larkson looked at Garak, his appreciation for the information the tailor had offered clear in his eyes. “She said that she didn’t leave her room until after she learned her father was dead, and that she hadn’t left the house at all today.” Larkson’s brow furrowed in displeasure as he spoke, likely at being lied to.

 

“Gentlemen, I believe we have our first suspect,” Bashir announced brightly, striding across the garden back towards the house.

 

Garak found himself sharing a look of understanding with Larkson, who seemed satisfied by what little he’d managed to glean about Garak.

 

“Where Mr. Bashir leads…” the detective began with fond resignation.

 

“We follow,” Garak finished as the two set off to catch up to their mutual companion.


End file.
